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to the table next to us. I tried [[cut off]] her into the conversation with me but with no success. Her answers were vague and frequently unrelated to the question. Her overriding curiosity was apparent. She'd look at me, absently then quickly turn, glance over her shoulder and try to hear more of the conversation...there was no hope of making an interesting or even a midly conversant dinner partner out of her. When the boys at the next table would return to the aviation problem their voices would raise, suddenly, as if conscious of their racket, they'd glance at us again, huddle closely then continue their conversation in whispers. This went on and on,then it seemed as if their excitement finally overran caution..their voices grew louder and louder and then [[strikethrough]] Scott said suddenly, "My God"...his following remarks furnished the lady with the necessary news backbone for her 'scoop. Her hasty goodby was barely courteous. She rushed out to grab the first Long Island train to New York City to her her story written. The next morning, her newspaper' headlined the story read..."WRIGHT BROTHERS NEXT MODEL WILL HSVE FEATHERS ON BOTH SIDES OF THE WINGS"! If there was 'clamoring and shouting in the streets' there was loud and raucous laughter on Nassau Field. The young had been perfectly setup and taken. We saw her no more. With the arrival of fall, I decided to return to Rochester to visit my mother. I'd been away a long time. Mother had not openly opposed my flyi ngcareer but intuitively I knew she'd be happier and experience more mental ease if I were to quit.
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